Encounters
by Madin456
Summary: Amidst the fire, they met. IzayaxOC.


**Summary:** Amidst the fire, they met. IzayaxOC.

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Durarara!**_

Encounters

**Part 1: First Encounter**

Ritchie Honda's lips stretched into a menacing grin as she took long strides through the town of Ikebukuro and did well to mask the seething anger that was building up inside her.

Her hands moved to remove the twin handguns that were strapped at her sides and twirled them around casually—dangerously. Manoeuvring herself through the crowd of people on the street, Ritchie tuned out the sounds of yelling that came from behind her and focused her mind solely on the two girls in front of her. They were thieves; petty little thieves who thought they could just take her precious belongings and run off.

The twenty-one-year-old stage dancer smirked. Hell no; they were not getting away with this.

She trailed after them into an alleyway and, after a few seconds of observation, she smirked. This battle was hers because looking around, the two female thieves had led themselves into a dead end with posters on all sides of the walls. And what were to happen if, perhaps, Ritchie _just happened_ to have a lighter in her pocket and she _accidentally_ lit one of the posters on fire?

It would, undoubtedly, spread to the other posters until the three of them—Ritchie and the two girls—were surrounded in flames.

With a gun pointed at the girls who were now wide-eyed with fear, Ritchie's other hand reached into her pocket and pulled out the bright red lighter and held it up for the girls to see. "This lighter here," she clicked it on so that her opponents could see it worked, "will now decide your fate." Never taking her eyes off of the people in front of her, she inched closer to the poster on her right. And, without warning, she brought the lighter closer and closer and closer until the corner of the poster burst into flames.

After that, it was the dominos effect; the fire spread all around the alleyway with immense speed. The two girls yelped and jumped forward when the posters behind them turned to ashes. At the same time, Ritchie moved towards her victims, cornering them and blocking their only means of escape. "Now, give me back my shoes and I'll let you go. Or would you rather—"

She stopped mid-sentence when she noticed that the girls had tried to run past and narrowed her eyes dangerously. Moving purely on instinct, she whirled around and unclipped a gun from her waist.

_**Bang!**_

And then it was silent, the only sounds remaining consisted of the cackling of the fire behind her.

Ritchie made her way to where the girls were, taking slow steps. She had fired a warning shot, to give them a taste of what would happen if they were to disobey her any further.

"_Give me back my shoes_," she growled, eyes piercing into theirs, daring them to run away, challenging them.

The shoes dropped onto the ground. "T-take them! We didn't even want them in the first place!" And they scrambled off, sprinting the hell out of there with their tails between their legs.

Ritchie sighed, walked over, picked up the shoes, and slung them over her shoulder. The weight felt almost comfortable, as if it belonged there. Amidst the fire that continued to rage behind her, she made out a voice and was immediately on guard again.

"Well done, well done!" The voice shouted out from her left. She spun on her heals, hands fingering her gun just in case, to see a man sitting on the roof of the building to her right, legs dangling off the edge where the flames almost reached, clapping, applauding her. Squinting, she could just barely make out the man's features in the darkness of the night.

Frowning, she found herself asking, "Who are you?" even though deep down inside, Ritchie already knew the answer. He was infamous and had a reputation going for him in this shady town; with spiky black hair, confident hazel brown eyes, the trademark black jacket with thick fur trimming, and the bad-boy aura he gave off, there was only one person he _could_ be.

"Izaya Orihara," Ritchie heard him say and she couldn't help but smile. After all, she was finally meeting _the_ well-known Izaya Orihara she's heard so many rumours and whispers about from every corner of the town. How could she _not_ be a little bit excited about that?

**-xXx-**

**Part 2: Second Encounter**

There were many things that people do to relieve stress, to express themselves, or simply just to show off their talent to the rest of the world. People sang, people made art, people competed in sports—but Ritchie?

She danced.

With her jet black hair flowing behind her, she glided across the stage gracefully, performing twirls and jumps and combinations of the two of high difficulty without breaking a sweat. After many long years of practice and finally making a career out of it, dancing was engraved into her body like it was her second nature. She danced whenever she could, even if it was just to go downstairs to the kitchen to get a snack. Dancing, to put it simply, was a part of her soul.

Which was why Ritchie had no problem getting away with half-hearted steps and weak arm movements. And why, despite her thoughts being far away, the audience still roared and applauded wildly when she finished her routine that day, completely oblivious to the fact that all her actions were sloppier than usual.

When her performance was over and the curtains had closed in preparation for the next act, Ritchie quickly changed out of her costume, grabbed her bag, secured her handguns on her waist, and sped out of the building. A cold gust of air hit her straight on as she took the first step outside, making her shiver.

She needed to clear her head. It was late, her dancing today had not exactly been top-notch, and she needed to focus and do better tomorrow. She inhaled. It was easy enough to do—once, of course, she got Izaya Orihara out of her mind.

It had been a week since their first encounter—a week for her to erase the black-haired man from her memories—but she still couldn't stop thinking about him. About the way he had smiled at her, the corners of his mouth lifting upwards ever-so-slightly. About the aura of mystery that always surrounded him. About why, for whatever reason, he had taken an interest in her and she in him.

She knew that all of these were signs; signs of a person slowly, but surely, falling in love. But for heaven's sake, she had only met the man _once_ for the duration of approximately ten minutes, at most. There was no way that a spark had already been created. Plus, she didn't even believe in love at first sight.

All in all, she concluded, this was definitely _not_ love.

Exhaling, she continued to walk down the familiar road back to her house, feeling a weight being lifted from her shoulders. She could do it. She could forget about the man she met that day after retrieving her shoes and move on. After all, what were the chances that she would meet him again?

"Hey."

Ritchie froze. There it was—the voice she thought she'd never hear again.

Before she even turned around, she knew that behind her stood a man with spiky black hair and dark captivating eyes. Before she even turned around, she knew that behind her stood a man with a playful personality to go along with his ever-lasting smile.

Before she even turned around, she knew that behind her stood the information broker of Ikebukuro: Izaya Orihara.

And when she finally _did_ turn around, her heart skipped a beat and she could feel the excitement coursing through her veins. She had been waiting for this moment, wanting to meet him again since their last meeting.

She grinned. "Finally."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Requested by punkette180 on dA. This took way too long. I'm sorry.


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